Trevor groans. “Darl, come on. Not here—”
She ignores him completely. “During charades night at our place, you two disappeared into the bathroom to ‘check on George’s wound’ after Trevor bumped into it.”
The room goes dead silent at the air quotes she just made. Adrian lets out a sharp laugh and shakes his head. “Oh, you’re kidding!”
“What I overheard through the hallway wall,” Becca continues, grinning directly at us now, “was definitely not a dressing change. And I’m a hundred dollars richer if I’m right about that.”
Heat floods my face. Lance’s expression lights up like pure trouble.
“He was doing the dressing,” I mutter, already sounding guilty as hell.
At the exact same time, Lance says casually, “You lost this one, Trev.”
We lock eyes. The tension snaps and the whole apartment explodes.
“It’s your fault,” Lance says, pointing at Trevor sounding deeply disappointed. “You’ve known me for how many goddamn years and you still bet on me keeping it in my pants? That’s on you, man.”
Trevor throws both hands into the air. “I trusted you! Thought maybe, just once in your bloody life, you’d act like a civilized human being in somebody else’s fucking house!”
Vince snorts from the couch. “Your first mistake was expecting Bradford to act civilized at all.”
Trevor sighs like a man walking to the gallows and pulls a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, slapping it onto the coffee table beside his wife. “I had literally just cleaned that bathroom.”
Lance responds, dry as a scan report, “I swallowed. Cleaned up after too. I can be civilized, Holloway.”
I reach over and smack the back of his neck. The laughter kicks up another notch. Becca tucks the money away with a victorious grin while Adrian laughs so hard he has to wipe his eyes while trying to balance his plate on his lap.
Even Marcus, who missed the original incident and clearly wishes he still had, struggles to keep a straight face. He just shakes his head, like this is somehow not surprising.
“I had to finally kick Lance out of my apartment after walking in on them twice,” he says. “Once on my couch, then on the kitchen counter. I didn’t use either for a while.”
I drag my hands down my face, the memory of getting caught on top of his brother hitting all at once—just pure embarrassment.
Vince just laughs under his breath and reaches over to pat my back, like this is all mildly inconvenient at best.
Lance keeps eating like nothing happened. “I’d like to think I made a graceful exit, brother. Happens to everyone.”
“No, it doesn’t,” everyone in the room says, shaking their heads.
We break into smaller conversations. I head to the kitchen to bring out the last portion of carnitas. When I return to the living room, Lance is already seated on the couch, one arm draped over the back. He glances up the moment I step back in, that quick check he always does whenever I leave the room. I lower myself onto the floor at his feet, close enough that he can feel me there. Without looking, he leans forward slightly, letting his hand brush lightly against my shoulder.
He takes a generous bite of the carnitas and lets out a deep groan of appreciation.
“So good, George,” he says with his mouth full, the way he always does whenever he eats my cooking. “Marry me.”
I don’t answer that the way I usually would.
I set my plate aside and then move into his line of sight. It’s only a small shift, but it pulls his attention completely. I bend a knee beside him.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the simple titanium band I’ve been carrying for weeks. Black, wide, brushed matte finish.
“Yes,” I answer him, nervous, holding the ring between us.
Lance looks like he’s forgotten how to move.
“What are you doing?” he asks, half-smiling thinking I’m messing with him.
Trevor lets out a sharp breath, Becca’s hand comes up to her mouth, and Adrian goes still beside him, eyes wide on the ring.
